


Hungry

by drwhorose



Series: Needs/Desires [1]
Category: True Detective
Genre: First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 15:06:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3138725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drwhorose/pseuds/drwhorose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Carcosa, Marty insists that Rust should move in with him while he recovers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hungry

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after Carcosa. If you have not watched the entire first season, there are spoilers in this story.

Marty had insisted on Rust moving in, pleaded really, after Rust had decided to end his hospital stay. Rust had protested, quietly, tried to convince Marty that he would be fine living alone, but Marty would hear none of it.

Marty saw Rust in a new light after he woke up from the coma. It had hurt deep in his chest to witness Rust's painful cries for the love and warmth of his long gone daughter, all that Rust had felt so strongly while unconscious. Marty knew that Rust, lean and thin, was hungry, starving, but not for food, for something much deeper. 

A few weeks had passed, and Rust finally felt strong enough to walk around Marty's home unaided by any sort of cane or by holding on to furniture to cruise around the living room. So he took it upon himself to look through the refrigerator and decide on something to make for dinner, to surprise Marty, to thank him without having to get all sappy by saying it out loud. 

Cooking would keep him busy, keep him from leaving the house to buy beer now that he was walking better. Marty had emptied his entire house of alcohol when Rust moved in, for both of their sakes. Rust had not touched a can of beer, ever since his battle with the monster, that day which branded his body and mind with new scars. It was not because Rust did not want to drink, he craved even the cheapest of booze. He ached for even a swig of Lone Star, but it was all out of reach. For now, at least.

Marty had been going to work, more and more each day, if only to keep his business open and running. Rust figured today was his opportunity to cook without Marty hovering around him like an overprotective parent. Marty seemed to go into helicopter mode whenever Rust stood up or even shifted on the couch. Rust recalled the evening when he had tried to take a piss on his own for the first time in a long time in Marty's bathroom. Rust had figured that a dirty look over his shoulder was enough to get Marty out of the bathroom, while asking if it was possible for him to "piss in peace." To which, Marty had replied, "I don't know. Let's see if you can piss in the toilet first."

Rust cleared his mind of the memories floating around in his head and began to focus on the task at hand. He pulled his long hair back into a ponytail, trying to tame the wild graying waves into submission. And then he started to cook, he had decided on Texas chili, something to warm Marty up, something that would satisfy him. Marty had quite the appetite, and Rust hated to admit, even to himself, that he enjoyed watching Marty eat, the way he savored a good hearty meal. It was almost lustful.

"Rust?" Marty called out as soon as he returned home from work. He took in a deep breath, his senses overloaded by the aroma surrounding him. 

"In the kitchen." Rust replied simply, nearly finished with his spicy chili creation.

"Are you supposed to be cooking in your condition?" Marty's eyes were wide with genuine concern.

"And what condition would that be?" Rust responded, stone faced yet calm. 

"Goddammit, Rust, you know you were in a coma. You remember that shit, right?" Marty rubbed his temples with his fingers.

"Just taste it," Rust handed Marty a wooden spoon.

Marty moaned with pleasure, closing his eyes for a moment as he tasted the chili. "Damn, that's delicious."

Rust nodded his thank you, never taking his eyes off Marty, his gaze as intense and as steady as ever. The moan of approval escaping from Marty's lips sent a jolt of warmth deep inside of Rust's stomach.

"Let's eat then." Rust suggested softly, his blue eyed gaze never wavering.

"Rust, uh...well," Marty's eyes seemed to be shining. "I may be going out on a limb here, but, hell..."

Marty leaned in closer to Rust, dangerously close to the man who even when injured could still kick his ass. Marty took Rust's face into his hands, crashing their lips together into a hungry kiss. Rust did not fight it, but his body froze. Marty paused, looking at him carefully. 

Rust's lips were slightly flushed from the shock of the kiss.

"Marty?" His voice came out in a low, deep whisper. 

"Permission to kiss you again?" Marty's eyes pleaded.

Rust tried to stifle a laugh. "Since when do you ask permission to do anything?"

Marty smiled, relieved. He slid his thumb over a sharp cheekbone. He kissed rough lips softly for a few more moments. Rust held onto Marty's sides as if his knees could buckle at any moment. Marty slid his hand over Rust's chest, as if trying to absorb the quickening heartbeat into his own being. 

Rust recalled in his mind that time is a flat circle, that this kiss from Marty was going to happen and would happen over and over again. But the thought reminded him of that mask clad maniac, the one Marty had fatally shot in a moment of pure rage. Rust cleared his throat, breaking the kiss.

"Stove's still on. Don't want that chili to burn." He explained, as he turned off the burner.

"Good call, Rust. I only got a little taste, I'd like to have the whole meal." Marty said with a sly grin on his face.

Rust studied Marty's eyes and wondered if Marty was even talking about the chili anymore. That mischievous boyish grin was still on his face, and Rust finally realized how Marty had gotten laid so many times in his life. Hard to say no to that smile, those bright eyes, but it was all too much, too quick for Rust. He was still healing. 

He turned away from Marty and began to stare out the window. Tonight there would be chili, watching Marty eat and make noises of approval. Maybe there would be one more kiss before saying good night. Rust would watch Marty walk down the hall into the darkness of his bedroom, while gathering the blankets on his couch, awake but dreaming.

"Hey, Rust, you gonna sit down and eat with me, or what?" Marty called from the table, watching Rust stand alone in the kitchen, still lost in thought.

"Yeah, Marty." Rust nodded, his voice even and cool.

"Get your fine ass over here and eat 'fore this chili gets cold." 

Rust allowed a smile to spread across his face. Marty was one of the only people who gave him good reason to smile. It would not be tonight, but Rust decided that one night soon Marty Hart is going to get much more than a bowl of chili and a kiss good night.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first True Detective story. I may write a few more short chapters for this story, depending on if my muse cooperates. Thank you for reading!


End file.
